


Truth Be Known

by FictionalKnight (Northern_Star)



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Canon - Movie, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/pseuds/FictionalKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denial, denial, denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Be Known

**Author's Note:**

> (*) The story starts slightly before the events in _The Dark Knight_ , and just as _Iron Man_ begins. It assumes pretty much all the canon from the movies, save for the part where Tony declares to the world that he's Iron Man. (or maybe it happens after the story, you decide...)
> 
> This was written for [](http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/profile)[**heeroluva**](http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/) in exchange for her generous donation to Doctors Without Borders, as part of the [](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://help-haiti.livejournal.com/) auction. With much thanks to [](http://isilweth.livejournal.com/profile)[**isilweth**](http://isilweth.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skund.livejournal.com/profile)[**skund**](http://skund.livejournal.com/) for all their precious assistance.

Heads turned as Tony Stark strolled casually out of the elevator and onto the chic rooftop terrace of the hotel, with the air of a man who owned the place and everyone there as well. It was a beautiful late-spring evening in Las Vegas, and the view from where he stood was so very pretty tonight - especially that brunette with the legs that went right up to here and the neckline all the way down to there.

A lustful smile on his lips and a few matching ideas in his head, Tony picked up a glass of something or other that had a colorful umbrella stuck in from a waiter's serving tray, ignoring the young man's complaint that it had been ordered by someone else. Tony stuck a hand in his pocket, pulled out a bill and tossed it on the tray without bothering to look at the amount, though from the waiter's reaction, it might have been a hundred; Tony didn't care. He took a sip from the drink that turned out to be some sort of frozen fruit punch - some sort of _virgin_ frozen fruit punch - stuck out his tongue and walked up to the bar, sliding the awfully sweet beverage toward the barman.

"Got anything stronger?" he asked the barman. "Virgins really aren't my thing."

The barman gave him a knowing smile. "What can I get you?"

"Martini," Tony said, handing him a fifty-dollar bill. "Dirty. Plenty of olives."

The barman nodded and went about to prepare the drink while Tony turned and leaned his hip against the bar, glancing around the terrace. A little further away, he noticed a rather large group of young women - mostly blondes - all of them clad in very tight, very short dresses, showing off as much of their nicely tanned legs as possible. They were giggling and clinking their glasses together as they stood around a man who, Tony guessed, was most likely paying for their drinks.

Obviously something was very wrong with Sin City, Tony thought in frustration, if a random schmuck could steal away every gorgeous thing within a fifty feet radius while here he was, in a brand spanking new tuxedo, without so much as a reality TV star fawning over him.

Then, all of a sudden, one of the blondes moved away, giving Tony a good view of the group's center of attention. As if on purpose, the man turned and ended up staring - and smiling - right at Tony, whose jaw dropped as he recognized the man immediately.

Well, fuck!

The schmuck wasn't a schmuck. He was Bruce Wayne.

No wonder everything on two legs had been drawn to him - the man had as much gravitational pull as a small sun. But what the hell was he doing in Las Vegas? And how was it that Tony hadn't been told about this? He'd have to have a few words with Pepper in the morning...

Hands curled up in tight fists, nostrils flaring, Tony strode over to Bruce and his following, forgetting all about the martini he'd been waiting for.

"Well, well, fancy meeting you here," Tony said, narrowed eyes traveling from the tip of Bruce's shoes all the way to the top of his perfectly combed hair. "What brings you all the way to the desert?"

"Just thought I'd come see what the air was like in Las Vegas," Bruce replied, a slow smile spreading on his lips.

"Ah," Tony huffed. "And just how _do you_ find the air in Las Vegas, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce took a circular glance at the women around him, before casting his eyes upon Tony once more. "Kind of crowded," Bruce snidely replied.

Tony raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is that so?" At Bruce's hummed affirmative, Tony looked left and right to the women around them and said, "If you'll kindly excuse us, ladies, the gentleman and I need to have a bit of a conversation... In private."

"We do?" asked Bruce, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, we do," Tony hissed, grabbing Bruce by the arm and roughly pulling him along toward the elevators, ignoring his protests and his attempts to break free.

They walked right passed the elevators and then Tony slammed into the door leading into the stairwell, forcing Bruce to follow him inside. Tony barely waited long enough for the door to close behind them before pushing Bruce up against the wall with all the strength in his body, and crushing their lips together in an urgent and hungry kiss.

They didn't break apart before several long minutes had passed and they were both panting heavily.

"Why the fuck did you not tell me you'd be here?" Tony asked, annoyance starting to bubble inside him again.

In a chuckle, Bruce replied, "What? And miss out on your little display of jealousy back there?"

"Someone thinks mighty highly of himself," Tony said, raising an eyebrow as he took a short step back. "That wasn't jealousy, I'll have you know, it was simply--"

"--oh, please!" Bruce cut in, clearly amused. "Don't even _try_ to convince me that you weren't pissed, having the spotlight and all the girls taken away from you!"

Tony blinked. "Well, of course, if you put it _that_ way..." he said in his best casual tone.

"Wait... What did you think I meant?" Bruce asked, frowning, after an awkward moment of silence.

"Whatever," Tony replied in a shrug, moving in closer to claim Bruce's mouth again and putting an immediate end to the conversation.

For a second it seemed like Bruce might be about to protest, his body going completely still, but Tony pressed on, sucking on Bruce's lower lip while his hands busied themselves on the buttons of his shirt. At the first brush of Tony's fingers against his skin, Bruce relaxed, giving up control, physical need and desire winning out over his curiosity.

Tony had most of the buttons undone on Bruce's dress shirt and was halfway into unbuckling his belt when a noise nearby brought them back to the reality of the situation. They were making out in the stairwell of a hotel in Las Vegas, no doubt about to be caught with their pants down - or just about - by some random passerby...

Bruce pushed Tony away. "Let's get out of here," he said in an urgent tone, immediately buttoning his shirt up again.

Tony gave him a lust-addled look. His hair was mussed, and his lips reddened and still wet from their kisses. Bruce had to fight an urge to grab him by the front of his jacket and kiss him again. Instead, he grabbed his arm and led him down a flight of stairs.

"My room is just one floor down," Bruce said as they ran down the stairs.

They stopped in front of the door that led out to the floor in question. Bruce hurriedly finished readjusting his clothes, while Tony just stood and waited, his cheeks flushed and his eyes not quite focused.

With a sigh, Bruce ran a hand through Tony's hair in an attempt to make it looks somewhat combed through. "At least _try_ to look presentable," said Bruce. "We don't have far to go..."

Opting against any wisecracks that might earn him a stern look and delay their journey to Bruce's room, Tony pretended to care about his appearance as he straightened his tie and stuffed the tails of his shirt back into his pants. "Good enough for you?" he asked, giving Bruce a crooked smile.

"Yeah," Bruce said with a nod. "Come on." He opened the door and they headed out into the empty corridor, walking up to the very last door at the end.

Bruce shoved a hand in one of his pockets, immediately producing the magnetic key to his room. He slid the card into the reader, but the small light flashed red and the door didn't budge. He tried again with the same result.

Frowning, he looked at Tony, who looked back, raising a very amused eyebrow. Then Bruce looked at the key, and up at the number on the door.

"Shit, wrong one," he muttered between his teeth before turning around to try his key on the door right across the corridor, while Tony laughed out loud.

The door opened on the first try and Bruce dragged Tony inside the room. "Stop laughing at me," he said warningly, "Or I'm locking you outside."

"Pfft! I could figure out the lock mechanism with my eyes closed..."

"Oh, shut up," said Bruce, kicking the door closed behind them and pushing Tony toward the bed.

They fell onto the mattress in a mess of tangled limbs, their mouths finding one another's almost immediately, sharing kisses with near violent fervor. Shoes were kicked to the floor and one by one, various items of clothing followed, ending up in a haphazard pile on the carpet.

Suddenly there was a loud rip of fabric and they both stilled, looking at one another with wide eyes before bursting into laughter.

"That better be yours," Bruce said, "or else Alfred will never let me hear the end of it."

"If it's yours we can just burn it," Tony replied, the sounds of his laughter muffled against Bruce's neck. "Damn I missed you," he added as he trailed kisses along Bruce's jaw. Eyes wide, Tony pulled back and immediately amended, "This, I mean. I missed _this_. You know you're a very cruel man, forcing me into three weeks of abstinence..."

Bruce pulled away a little further even, a frown creasing his brow. "Abstinence?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

Tony let out a small somewhat frustrated sigh. "Making do without you," he explained. "You've completely ruined me for everyone else, with all this mind-blowing sex. How am I supposed to be able to find a suitable stand-in for that?"

"Who ever said you were supposed to?" Bruce asked, his expression turned smug. "Now, tell me, Tony... Which part of your _mind_ do you want blown first?"

"Like you can't guess," Tony replied, with a hard nudge of his hips.

=:=:=

Early morning sunshine had started filtering through the heavy drapes when the silence of the hotel room was abruptly broken by the jarring sounds of a cell phone ringing.

"It's yours," said Bruce in a thick, sleep-laden voice, at the start of the third loop of the ring tone.

Tony simply grunted in response, but made no attempt to reach for his phone. Bruce swatted him on the back with his hand, but again, Tony merely grunted. The ringing stopped.

Less than a minute later, the cell phone chimed again.

"Are you going to get that?" Bruce asked, sighing in annoyance.

Again, Tony grunted but barely moved at all. The ringing stopped. Bruce shrugged and turned on his side so he could go back to sleep.

When the phone rang for the third time, Bruce pulled out the pillow from under Tony's head and smacked him in the chest with it. "Will you get that already?"

Tony sat up, startled. "What? What's going on?"

"Answer your damn phone!"

"My, my, aren't we cranky..." Tony said, and he reached for the cell phone that was lying on the floor just a few paces away. "Yeah?" he said into the phone. Then he frowned and looked at the phone's screen. Letting out a muffled curse, he set the phone on the nightstand and yanked his pillow out of Bruce's hands.

Tony barely had time to lie down again when the phone rang once more. This time, he grabbed it immediately. "I'm here," he said as he answered the call. "I was just-- No--! Yes, I'm still in Vegas. ... Of course I remember. ... It's funny, I thought with it being my plane and all that it would just wait for me to get there. ... I mean doesn't it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive? ... Well, tell him to keep his pants on, I'll be there soon."

With a frustrated sigh, Tony shut off the phone and set it down on the nightstand again. Then he threw the sheets off himself and, deciding that this was the quickest route to get to the bathroom, climbed right over Bruce to get out of bed.

"Hey!" Bruce protested. As Tony elbowed him in the ribs, Bruce yelped in pain. "Get the hell off me, you lummox."

Tony frowned at the sight of a large, purple bruise on Bruce's side. "Did I--? Did I do that to you?"

"No," Bruce replied as he tried to push Tony away. "It's a... _polo_ injury."

"Since when do you play polo?" Tony asked. He didn't sound convinced at all; if anything, he sounded even more concerned.

Bruce pulled the sheets right over his injury and all the way up to his neck. "Since when is that any of your business?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine," he spat, heading toward the bathroom.

A few minutes later, when Tony walked out of the shower and back into the room, Bruce appeared to have fallen asleep again. Going around the room quickly, Tony gathered his clothes. "You're right, maybe it isn't any of my business," he muttered to himself as he pulled up his pants. "But maybe I care anyway..."

Fully dressed, Tony cast a last circular glance around the room, making sure he wasn't forgetting anything, then walked to the door and stopped before pulling it open. He looked over his shoulder one last time. "I'll call you when I get back," he said. Then he walked out the door, and quietly added, "But maybe you don't care either way."

Tony boarded his private plane less than an hour later, and left for Afghanistan. It should have been a quick, easy trip: land, demonstrate the Jericho missile, hop on the plane again and come back. Things, however, didn't quite turn out as planned...

=:=:=

While Tony Stark was being shot at and kidnapped in Afghanistan, Bruce Wayne was safely back home in Gotham, getting ready for his nightly patrol of the city.

He had no idea what had happened, until he picked up the newspaper the next morning and saw the headlines in the business section: "Stark Industries CEO Missing in Action." Bruce's blood ran cold as he read through the article. It wasn't until he'd spoken to Tony assistant that he actually believed the news at all.

Days went by that turned into weeks and then a month had passed and still there was no sign of Tony. Unwilling to let another day go by without doing anything, Bruce covertly hired a team that specialized in search and recovery operations, and sent them off to Afghanistan. Obviously, while the US Air Force was doing everything they could to find the missing industrialist, they seemed to be in dire need of assistance. Time was starting to run out.

Tony _couldn't be_ dead - Bruce absolutely refused to believe it, and would right up until someone showed him Tony's cold, dead body. Until then, if he needed to send in a dozen more teams to help with the search, he would. They'd bring Tony back home again. In one piece. Anything less than that was not something Bruce wanted to think about. It just wasn't an option.

And then one afternoon, they found him. Almost literally in the middle of nowhere, near the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. Injured, but not seriously - at least not at first glance. Officially, the US Air Force had found him, though unofficially, the intel that had led them to him had come from elsewhere.

=:=:=

When Tony Stark finally set foot on American soil again, after several long weeks of captivity, nearly everything about him had changed other than the goatee and the dry sense of humor.

Chowing down on the last half of the cheeseburger that he had begged Happy to make a detour for, Tony walked into the conference room where a group of reporters was already waiting for him. In a few minutes, he would be announcing that Stark Industries would no longer be manufacturing weapons.

Tony glanced around the room, recognizing a few of the reporters here and there. His heart sank at the realization that Bruce was most definitely not there; he'd foolishly hoped that somehow the man would be amongst the crowd. Tony sunk down in front of the podium and released a long sigh along with his unrealistic hopes.

Why would Bruce have shown up there anyway? He didn't care... Bruce had no idea just how much time, how many nights, Tony had spent lying awake, trying to remember the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the warmth of his skin. He had no way of knowing that while Tony had been held captive, one of the things that had helped him stay alive, besides a burning desire to kick some terrorist ass, was the thought that once he made it back to the US, he'd see Bruce again, touch him again, kiss him again. Spend the night and wake up in his arms again...

But Bruce had never really cared. Tony could see that now, he could feel it - the thought crushing him on the inside. There would be no joyous reunion. Things would still be the same between them as they'd always been. Tony Stark might have changed while he was in Afghanistan - he'd changed on a fundamental level, in fact - but Bruce Wayne hadn't, and Tony shouldn't have expected him to.

Perhaps it was time for him to turn this page as well... Besides, what would Bruce want with Tony anymore? Bruce liked nice things - perfect things - things that looked really sexy hanging on his arm. Tony Stark might have fit that description, once upon a time, though he'd never hung on Bruce's arm and Tony didn't think either of them wanted to be caught like that either, but now... Now, Tony had a small replica of his arc reactor embedded in his chest. Even covered, it kept emitting a pale blue glow. Tony Stark wasn't perfect anymore - not even close. Bruce Wayne wouldn't want him, even if had cared enough to show up here today.

What Tony didn't know, and wouldn't find out until much later, was that while he was giving his press conference and shocking the world with the announcement that he was shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries, Bruce was halfway across the world, in Hong Kong.

And while Bruce would have given a lot to have been there that morning, the mission needed to come first. The mission always came first. Before anything, and anyone. He was Batman first and Bruce Wayne when and if there was time and a reason.

=:=:=

Tony was sitting in his workshop a few days later, when Pepper came down and brought him the morning paper and a few pieces of mail he might want to see, including a rectangular box, wrapped in thick brown paper. He ignored her, the paper, the mail, and the box, and kept on working on yet another, more perfected version of his armor. A better, lighter, more efficient one - one that would enable him to respond quickly in an emergency, even if he wasn't in his lab when disaster struck.

At least, while he was doing that, he wasn't spending all his time foolishly wondering what Bruce was up to, where he was, what he might be wearing, and obsessing over who he might have found to fill his lonely nights with... Obsessing over every little detail of the suit he was building was much more productive, Tony kept telling himself. Eventually, he even managed to believe it.

It wasn't until a full week had passed that Tony finally bothered to look at his mail. When he opened up the rectangular box, he found a bottle of 40-year old Glenfiddich single malt scotch. As he lifted it out of the box, the small card that had once been stuck to it came unglued and fell to the floor without Tony ever noticing it. He poured himself a dram of the amber liquid in the cleanest glass he could find and proceeded to read his mail as he savored the drink.

Among other things, he found an invitation to some sort of charity gala. There was a post-it note on the invitation, upon which Pepper had neatly written, "You should try and put in an appearance at this one!"

The event was to take place in a few hours, Tony realized after querying Jarvis for the day's date. Perhaps he would go, then. If Pepper thought he should... She always knew what was best for him, after all, didn't she?

=:=:=

As per usual, heads turned when Tony Stark walked into the large ballroom where the charity event - he wasn't even really sure which charity this was a benefit for - was being held. Though this time, it was more than simple awe that made them look. It was the fact that he'd escaped the clutches of terrorists and made it back alive in one piece that had them ogling him, as well as the fact that he never usually attended any sort of event in the first place.

Tony wasn't a recluse by any means, but he hated these social events and never bothered to go, preferring instead to let Pepper send a donation in his name. Instead, he had always favored bars and casinos and places where he could have some fun with people who didn't already have a stick up their butt. But he was a changed man now... and perhaps changing his public image might be warranted, too. Besides, he hadn't been out of his workshop for days, and he was starting to feel a little antsy. Spending a few hours surrounded by beautiful women who had nothing better to do but hang on his every word would definitely help cure him of that.

He couldn't help the crooked smile that curled his lip when he caught a glimpse of the scenery inside the ballroom - pretty women all sparkly in their evening dresses, with legs up to here and a figure that had likely made a few plastic surgeons a small fortune. It made Tony wonder why he hadn't come out of his workshop in days.

Until he moved out of the way of a man who seemed to be in a hurry to leave and Tony found himself unwillingingly bumping into another man who wasn't looking where he was going anymore than Tony was.

"Sorry," Tony mumbled without looking.

"Tony?" came a familiar voice and immediately Tony froze and looked.

Bruce Wayne... What was he doing there? What was he doing there when Tony really didn't want to see him at all? And dammit, how come Pepper hadn't told him that Bruce would be there? ...unless that was the exact reason why she'd suggested that Tony should attend this event? No... she wouldn't do that, would she?

"You look... good," said Bruce, pulling Tony out of his musings.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And you look out of place," he replied. "What brings you all the way out here?"

"I could ask you the same," Bruce said in tone turned acid. "You never come to these things. Why now? Why this one?"

"How is that any of your business?" Tony huffed.

Bruce shrugged. "I guess it's not." They stared at one another for a moment, frustration clear on both faces. "You know, I--" Bruce started, then stopped immediately. He shook his head and added, "Never mind," before walking away.

"I was leaving anyway," Tony announced, to no one in particular, and he stormed out of the room.

He was practically out of the hotel when a young man all dressed in black, ran right into him. "Doesn't anyone around here look where they're going?" Tony complained, annoyed. The young man didn't even acknowledge him, and Tony kept on walking, mumbling to himself about what a bad idea coming here had been, and how so very much like Bruce Wayne to still not care an ounce, even after all that Tony had been through.

Tony was halfway into an imaginary conversation in his head where he finally had the balls to tell Bruce to his face how much he hated him for not giving a damn, and how he wanted to punch him until he did - perhaps using the armor, too - when all of a sudden he heard people screaming. Tony turned immediately on his heel, realizing the screaming was coming from the ballroom. There was something going on in there that wasn't right at all.

In a split second, Tony knew exactly what he needed to do. He ran out of the hotel, flipping his cell phone open the moment he stepped outside. "Jarvis," he barked into the phone, "Assemble the suit and put it on autopilot. I need it here, _now_."

"Yes, sir," came the artificial intelligence's voice. "Right away."

Tony waited for a moment, pacing in the alley beside the hotel, trying to find a good enough hiding place where he could change into the armor once it got here. Impatiently, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket again, hitting a button, then yelling, "Dammit, Jarvis, hurry up!"

"Almost there, sir," replied the voice. "Just a few more seconds."

As the last words were spoken, the armor landed just beside Tony, who let out a sigh of rellief at the sight. He looked around, saw no one there, so he hurried into the suit, hoping he wouldn't be too late. There were people in danger inside the hotel. He hadn't seen her, but he knew Pepper was supposed to be there. Bruce was in there!

With that last thought in mind, Tony - now Iron Man - flew back into the hotel, and directly into the ballroom, ready for action. Ready to take down whoever it was that was threatening the lives of all the innocent people gathered there. But what he found when he reached the ballroom wasn't anything like he'd expected...

There on the floor, lay a half dozen thugs, already bound and gagged. Iron Man looked around, but all he saw were people hugging one another, obviously shaken, though every last one of them seemingly unharmed. How could that have happened, he wondered? He'd been gone barely a few minutes, who could have taken all these people down so quickly?

Things didn't make sense to him at all until he spotted a small bat-shaped object sticking out of a wall.

Ah...

Apparently, he'd been one-upped by Batman.

"Find him," Tony instructed Jarvis. "I want to know where he went."

"He's not inside this room," replied the computer after a short moment. "Perhaps he's already fled."

So, without wasting any time, Iron Man exited the hotel again and flew around the area until finally Jarvis's targeting system caught a trace of the man Tony had been looking for.

"In the back alley, near the parking lot," Jarvis announced and immediately Tony could see the flashing dot on the computer display inside his armor's mask.

"Got it."

Iron Man landed there just a few seconds before Batman could throw his grappling hook and leave the scene. "And here I thought you were just a legend," Iron Man commented, standing behind Batman.

"Don't believe everything you read," said Batman in a low, gravelly voice.

"Thanks for helping out," Iron Man told him.

"I do what I can."

"Though one wonders..." Iron Man said, "What are you doing all the way out here? Isn't the East Coast more your scene?"

"How is it any of your business what I'm doing here?" Batman spat and he started walking away with a rustle of his long, black cape.

As things suddenly clicked in Tony's head, his heart nearly stopped. "Bruce?" he asked, removing the front of his armor's mask. "It's you, isn't it?"

For a moment, Batman went still, but he didn't say a thing, and started walking again almost immediately.

"Dammit, answer me!" Tony complained, flying over to land right in Batman's path. "It is you. I know it is."

"What difference does that make?" Batman asked, clearly conflicted.

When he tried to move around Iron Man, Tony took a step to the side, blocking his path again. Batman tried going the other way, but Tony blocked him again.

"Get out of my way!" Batman protested angrily.

"No," said Tony, a smile slowly speading on his lips. "I'm not letting you off that easily. Not this time."

In a frustrated sigh, Batman asked, "What it is that you want?"

"We need to talk." With that, Iron Man took a step toward Batman and, after putting his mask back on, he locked his arms around the Dark Knight, he took off into the air.

"What the hell do you think you're you doing?"

There was an odd, distorted chuckle from the armor. "Sweeping you off you feet."

"Let go of me... shellhead!" Batman protested.

This time Iron Man laughed for good. "If I drop you, you'll fall and hurt yourself."

"I'm far more ressourceful than you give me credit for," Batman replied, still using the low gravelly voice customary to his persona.

"Or so it seems," Iron Man replied as he landed them on the rooftop of the hotel. "Who would have thought you of all people would turn out to be Batman."

"Who would have thought you of all people would turn out--"

"--fine, fine, you've made your point," Iron Man said, removing his mask again. Then he cocked his head to the side, frowned and asked, "You've never played Polo even once in your life, have you?"

"Do I look like I have _time_ to play Polo?"

"So, the bruises..."

Batman shrugged almost imperceptively. "Job casualty."

"And when you lied about that, you were just... Protecting your identity?" Tony suggested.

"Protecting you from what might happen if people found out you knew," Batman admitted, though he was no longer using his menacing, gravelly voice, but Bruce's instead.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "So you aren't completely indifferent, after all?"

"What difference does it make?"

"All the difference in the world..." Tony replied in a soft sigh. Then as an afterthought he asked, "Unless you mind my having an arc reactor protruding from my chest. It's not exactly very sexy..."

"It keeps you alive, doesn't it?" At Tony's nod, Bruce went on, "Then I think it's perfect right where it is."

Tony smiled, then in a quick succession of movements, put his mask back on, took a step forward, picked Batman up from where he stood, and lifted them both up into the night sky.

"Trying to sweep me off my feet again?" Bruce asked, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Nope. Done that already," Tony replied, amusement coming through his computerized voice.

"Then what? You're taking me back to your lair?" Bruce chuckled.

"Exactly!" Tony exclaimed, laughing heartily. "And then I plan on forcing you to show me how much you really care..."

"Oh yeah?"

"You do care, don't you?" Tony asked, his voice wavering.

Bruce gave him a crooked smile. "Deeply," he said in a husky tone. "I can think of a few ways to demonstrate, if you insist."

The last of Bruce's words were drowned out by the sudden roar of Iron Man's jet boots as he accelerated the speed of their flight back to his not-so-secret hideout.

=> The End.


End file.
